


Out Of The East Wing

by apocryphile



Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-15
Updated: 2012-06-15
Packaged: 2017-11-07 19:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/434785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocryphile/pseuds/apocryphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>President Bartlet's advice on choosing a Chief of Staff was simple: "You have a best friend? Is he smarter than you? Would you trust him with your life? That's your chief of staff."</p><p>Close enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Out Of The East Wing

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Jess, even though she wanted me to kill Sam Seaborn (which I didn't!).

"Josh, we can't."

"Can't as in aren't allowed to or can't as in won't be able to cope?"

"Either! Both!" She thought for a moment. "Ok, maybe we COULD manage, if everyone" - she motioned towards their closed bedroom door, behind which the entire campaign staff was trying to eavesdrop - "comes with us. But... Well, it's not, is it?"

"Not allowed?"

"Yes."

She'd conceded what he thought of as the main argument even faster than he'd hoped; he'd been planning to walk her through the intricacies of the legal question to give her time to mull over the personal dimension of his proposal. Now he answered simply.

"It is, actually."

"You mean it's not explicitly forbidden."

"That's all we need. It's a discretionary appointment anyway; Jed made no secret of the fact that Leo'd been his best friend for years, and Matt didn't even ask me if I wanted the job."

"Leo ran the Bartlet campaign. You ran the Santos one."

"And you've been doing what, composing my theme music?"

"Well, no, but you've pretty much been running your own campaign, which is just as preposterous--"

"It worked, didn't it?"

She huffed in frustration, but she was still too exhilarated about that not to break off and kiss him then. They grinned at each other for a moment before automatically resuming their battle stances, hands on hips, chins jutted out, drawn to their full heights -- which, Josh was forced to admit, made his wife slightly taller than him even now that she'd abandoned high heels altogether. 

"It comes with more access and authority than even the VP has. It'll make us look like the mafia or something! And what's going to happen to the East Wing?"

"The West Wing's been short on space for years," he quipped, and she glared at him.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

He took a deep breath.

"I don't know. I do know that the First Lady isn't constitutionally mandated to do anything, that neither of us much care for the pomp and circumstance ceremonial stuff anyway, and that women's issues, family issues, deserve the attention of the Oval as much as anything else. You'll be attending all the big stuff either way and there is no rule that says that the Chief Of Staff can't support the American fashion industry by looking hot in an evening dress." He delivered that last line with a smirk and she jabbed him in the arm. She'd shouted the last person who tried to talk to her about her gown for the Inaugural Balls out of her office.

She blinked a few times, and then stepped forward until they were inches apart.

"What if we can't agree on something?"

He smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss.

"That's never been a problem before."

She closed her eyes for a moment. He reached for her hands, clasping them gently between his, and delivered his closing argument in a whisper.

“Donna, this is the last real job I’m ever going to have.”

He tightened his grip, expecting her to pull away and lay into him, but she didn't even open her eyes. After a moment, she nodded slowly.

"I know."

"And you've paid your dues in the East Wing. Neither of us started out wanting this, I think this is a way to make the best of it."

She nodded again. 

He held his breath.

She opened her eyes, and, slowly, started to smile until she was beaming at him. He knew then that unlike the blur of winning the election the night before, he would remember every detail of this moment for years to come. 

"OK. Let's do it."

He returned her grin, and for a moment they just stood there, marveling at each other. He cast his mind back over two decades to the wide-eyed young creature he'd found in his chaotic office in Nashua and shook his head slightly in disbelief. Then he steered her gently towards the door.

He started to turn the handle and there was a rumble from outside as two dozen staffers rushed to look nonchalantly busy somewhere out of earshot. Before pushing the door open, Josh turned back to his wife and mouthed "Thank you."

Then he burst into the semi-packed-up election night war room and introduced Donna as his Chief Of Staff. The place erupted.

**Author's Note:**

> The premise of this appeared in my head after the truly wonderful [@Pres_Bartlet](https://twitter.com/#!/Pres_Bartlet) on twitter quoted himself ("You have a best friend? Is he smarter than you? Would you trust him with your life? That's your chief of staff." - on the occasion of President Obama replacing his CoS) and someone replied - "I do have a best friend - I married her!".


End file.
